


Kindred

by Monkg58



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6533473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkg58/pseuds/Monkg58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete Wentz finds himself in court suing a man who has been trying to blackmail him and in the process he must defend a friendship that he has come to cherish. Should he fail to prove the innocent nature of this relationship, he may find himself being charged with the very crime this man has falsely accused him of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Not my first try with fanfiction, but it is my first writing about FOB. I hope you like the story and leave me a comment if you do. I expect that this will be relatively short maybe 5 or 6 chapters in all. Depending on interest I may keep it going longer ;)  
> I always like to include a disclaimer with my stories and in this case it is that I do not know any of the recognizable people mentioned in the story nor am I suggesting that any of the relationships or encounters mentioned have ever taken place, just a work of fiction going on here.

"Please state your full name for the record."

"Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz, III"

“Do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.”

Pete redirected his attention to the man standing behind a podium a few feet away and waited with what he hoped was an indifferent expression.

"Please tell the court what it is you do for a living, Mr. Wentz."

"I'm the bass player in a band called Fall Out Boy. I also have other entrepreneurial interests."

"Would you consider yourself a celebrity, Mr. Wentz?"

Pete took a deep breath and remembered his lawyer's advice. Answer the questions, but don't show any negative emotion or give more information than asked for. Take the high road and stay likeable. His fame was the very source of the situation he currently faced, so he knew this was important to establish. Still he hated having to answer such stupid, yet potentially damaging questions.

"I am famous, if that's what you mean, but personally I don't think of myself in those terms day to day."

He had to avoid smiling. It was the truth no matter how much of a smartass he might appear for phrasing the answer in such a way.

"So your band is successful? Well known?"

"Yes"

"You make a lot of money?"

"Yes"

"You are on TV, in magazines? People would know your face or name if mentioned?"

"Yes"

He should be able to quantify that the way he wanted to, but the shorter the answers, the less explanation the better; and perhaps it might even speed up the process. If it became necessary his lawyer had assured him that they would clarify things when needed.

"Very well, with that established, let us discuss why we are actually here."

Pete took another breath and looked out at the few people assembled in the courtroom. His mother caught his eye first and she gave him an encouraging yet subdued smile. He was glad that she was here but even happier that she was one of only a few people present, his lawyer successfully lobbying for a closed courtroom. Whatever the outcome of this day and however his life would play out after this nightmare was finally over, at least the rumors and gossip would be hard to validate with so few witnesses.

"Do you know Jennifer Masterson?"

"Yes"

Pete didn't mean to do it but his eyes immediately found hers next.

"And could you identify her here in the courtroom?"

"She's in the first row there, the brunette in the blue sweater."

He had to force himself to refocus and find the man standing so confidently across from him instead of continuing to find comfort in her gaze. He was told not to show negative emotion but he wasn't sure any emotion would be helpful, least of all anything that might highlight his feelings toward her.

"Could you please tell the court when and how it was that you first met Ms. Masterson?"

There was no hesitation required. Pete had replayed that day in his mind a thousand times. He knew the details and could recall the specific events as if they had occurred a few hours ago instead of five years before. 

"The band was in Charleston doing a show. It was early 2015, probably February or March. There was this shopping center across from the venue we were playing and I had decided to go off and find some coffee during a break before we did sound check that afternoon. I was sort of distracted at the time and literally bumped into Ms. Masterson as she was coming out of the coffee shop."

The best worst day of my life, Pete reminisced in his mind. 

"Was there more interaction than that—conversation perhaps?"

He wanted to give a good answer knowing this was once again important information, but he didn't want to tell 'their' story under these circumstances. His family knew a version of the story and some of his closer friends, but only he and Jen would ever know everything that had happened that day and how special it truly was. God willing, if the questions allowed, he'd be able to get by with nothing more than a basic outline.

"I was distracted, so when I say I bumped into Ms. Masterson, I literally bumped into her; knocked her coffee out of her hand and tripped over the baby stroller she was pushing. I immediately apologized, offered to replace her drink, and checked to make sure the baby was okay."

None of that explanation captured the moment in its entirety or how meaningful it would become, but it was all true and seemed to satisfy the man questioning him for the moment. If he had been free to tell this story to anyone else he would have happily elaborated. He would have laughed about the amount of collective swearing that had taken place; the instant recognition she'd had and how unimpressed she was, even though she knew enough about him to sarcastically quote the infamous "thanks Pete" line that had been following him around for what seemed like forever. He would have wanted to talk about the sadness in her eyes, which was so at odds with the beautiful smile she wore. It was a smile so beautiful in fact that it had threatened to take his breath away. He would have liked to mention how every aspect of her being visibly softened as she introduced him to her son. He would pinpoint that moment as the thing that really stuck with him. It was that unconscious reaction that increased his curiosity and made him pay even more attention. He'd eventually have to explain how he'd never believed in love at first sight until that day; and even though it was obvious within the first two seconds of meeting her that neither of them were in a position to do anything about it, he'd never forget that feeling, or the amount of hope it had instilled in him. But he couldn't say any of that to anyone.

"And then what happened?"

Pete cleared his throat and tried to remain focused. He knew better than to believe that such a simple explanation would actually be all that was required of him.

"We talked for a moment, and she eventually accepted my offer to buy her another coffee. I found out while we were waiting for the drinks that she was planning to come to the show that night, which gave us more to talk about."

"So she knew who you were?"

"Yes."

"Please continue."

"I still felt bad about bumping into her and figured I might offer her some better tickets or some concert swag to help make up for being so clumsy. She tried to decline, but as it turned out she was bringing her niece and nephew to the show, and since it was their first concert experience I eventually managed to talk her into it for their benefit. We exchanged phone numbers so I could send her the details after I had time to make some arrangements with my manager. After that I walked her and her son to their car."

No mention of the playful banter or the amount of overt flirting that had taken place. Nothing about the candid conversation they'd shared about their kids and what an uplifting moment that had been. He didn't talk about the obnoxious number of baby pictures they'd passed back and forth, or how that had ultimately made them start comparing music saved on their phones. No mention of her husband and how she'd gone on about how excited he'd be to hear that she'd met Pete Wentz. And certainly nothing about how long they had lingered in the parking lot thanking each other for any number of things they felt the other had been responsible for in such a short space of time.  
For Pete it had been the best he'd felt for weeks leading up to that day. He had been struggling to keep his head up and his attitude in check for quite some time prior to that chance encounter, but fortunately an hour with her was all it had taken to bring an abrupt end to his growing depression. For Jen, she would tell him later that he'd been a bright spot, a moment of fun, in the middle of what had become a very monotonous existence. Meeting him and having a happy little conversation that afternoon had rejuvenated her and made her feel more excited about the future than she had in a long time.

"So Ms. Masterson did indeed take you up on the offer of a ticket upgrade?"

"She did. I arranged for her and the kids, her niece and nephew, and her husband to come to the meet and greet that night, and gave them some VIP passes. The kids got some t-shirts and stuff as well."

"Now you said earlier that you had exchanged contact information for the purpose of communicating what Ms. Masterson would need to know in order to accept the concert upgrades you had arranged."

Pete felt his eyebrows lift. This was probably best coming from his own lawyer, but again he hated where this was leading and what it would imply.

"That's right."

"So I'd like to back up for a second here. If you are as we have established earlier, a celebrity, someone famous enough to be recognized, someone that a woman like Ms. Masterson would know after bumping into you at a coffee shop; what would possess you to give her your personal phone number?"

He hadn't expected the sudden and fierce reaction such a simple and necessary question provoked. His blood pressure spiked and he found himself having to hold back the snarky answer that immediately came to mind. Still, he couldn't deny his true nature in every instance. 

"I give my phone number to a lot of people. We had talked for a while and I had no reason to believe that she would abuse it. She was a nice lady with a little baby in a coffee shop; not the profile I think of when it comes to a crazy stalker or anything."

He had to cut himself short. It wouldn't look good if he started getting too defensive this early on. That warning about too much emotion was on permanent repeat in his head. If his emotion came in the form of anger, he'd be shooting himself in the foot for sure.

"For some of us it would seem strange that a famous person would take off on their own to walk around a busy shopping area alone. Was there no one else with you, no other contact you could have given her? Do you not employ a bodyguard, Mr. Wentz?"

"I do, but that's only for crowded occasions, like shows or promotional things where we know that there will be a lot of people looking to approach me. Day to day I go out all the time by myself. I'm not Justin Bieber or anything; even when the odd person knows who I am I don't worry that I'll get attacked so to speak." 

"Have you ever given your personal phone number to a fan or a casual acquaintance prior to the day you met Ms. Masterson?"

"I'm sure that I have."

He couldn't say he'd done it recently, but it had probably happened before so he wasn't lying.

"So after the night of the concert, did you stay in contact with Ms. Masterson?"

"Yes."

"And how long after that night was it before you communicated again?"

"Probably a week or so later."

"And for what purpose?"

Pete was reluctant to answer in any way that would make their communication appear unseemly, but the truth wasn't very innocent. He'd missed her and wanted to talk to her again. She hadn't been off of his mind for more than a few brief moments since the afternoon they'd met and he wanted to see if talking to her again could conjure up the same magic as before.

Although he'd been coached to avoid as much eye contact with anyone in the room besides those questioning him, his attention was once more drawn to her, while he was running through all of the things he could say and still remain truthful. He exhaled slowly and was comforted by the welcome reminder that it did work—every time. And at least the question had been phrased in such a way that he didn't have to admit to texting repeatedly with her the night of the show and pretty much every day after that until he'd finally gotten up the courage to actually call.

"I'd felt a pretty strong connection with her and her husband. I rarely get to meet people when we are out on tour that we can spend any amount of time with other than to say hi and thanks for coming to the show during our formal meet and greets, but with them it was different. When the show was over that night we'd said, 'hey, we'll keep in touch,' and about a week later I figured why not call and see how they're doing."

He left out the part about calling Jen late at night when he knew that she'd be alone at work, and that they'd talked for nearly an hour about nothing of importance, just enjoying the same type of playful back and forth as they'd done at the coffee shop that afternoon.

When he'd found the courage to look her way again, Pete noticed Jen’s head was bowed and her hand was rubbing at her neck. It was a posture he was unfortunately familiar with, and it made him pause and swallow down his emotions. He knew exactly what she was feeling. It was hard reliving the details this way. It was hard having to recall that it was from that moment and that night that Pete would consider Jen one of his very best friends—ever. 

Over the years there would be hundreds of calls, and thousands of text messages. He would confide in her and ask advice, share his secrets and fears, accomplishments and failures. They would talk about everything, always with Derrick's blessing, but never his full understanding of how much he loved her.

"This is difficult for you to talk about, Mr. Wentz?"

An understatement considering it must be pretty obvious.

"Yes"

"Could you elaborate?"

"I've known Jennifer and Derrick Masterson for a long time now. We'd become great friends, our kids are friends. Our families know one another. Under the circumstances talking about the start of it all is hard."

Pete had never felt uncomfortable wearing a suit and tie, but right now he wanted to rip his collar open and make some room for the enormous lump forming in his throat. He'd also never found it terribly hard to speak in front of people, but his voice was suddenly strangled and timid sounding.

"His death...has been incredibly hard for me. Being accused of having any involvement in it is just...I don't even have the right words for how that makes me feel."

His eyes were burning now with unshed tears as he saw that Jen had silently succumbed to those she'd been struggling to keep at bay.

So much for avoiding any significant display of emotion, he lamented.

"We’ll move on and get to the point in that case." His lawyer offered in a kind voice.

"The most important question I must posed to you, a celebrity, a rock star, and by the testimony of others we've already spoken to in this case, a man with a reputation; what was it about this couple living in suburban America, who just so happen to come to a concert one night, that fostered such a friendship after nothing more than a chance meeting at a coffee shop? We are here today because it has been suggested that one could believe that there was an ulterior motive or at least some other interest at work, something that would eventually make a man desperate enough to act out of character. That in mind I'd like to give you a chance to defend yourself, Mr. Wentz."

His attorney was on a roll now and Pete felt a single tear trail down his cheek watching Jen reach to cover her mouth and close her eyes, too overwhelmed to avoid fighting it any longer.  
They knew that the accusations against him would have to be mentioned. His lawyer wanted to show that they weren't afraid to say the words or ignore what he was up against. Pete had been warned that they would have to spell it out, but he wasn't prepared to hear the words and watch the affect it was obviously having on her at the same time.  
The only comfort he had was the knowledge that Jen didn't believe for a second what they were suggesting. She knew that he didn't have anything to do with Derrick's death, that he could never be so heartless. She knew that he loved her too much, loved her son too much, to do anything that would hurt them. And losing Derrick had nearly killed them both. 

"So please tell the court, have you ever had a romantic relationship with Ms. Masterson?"

"No." It came out as a defiant growl and he didn't care.

It was true, no matter how much he would wish for a different set of circumstances. Pete had been in a relationship at the time, and Jen had been happily married to a great guy. He would have never suggested compromising the hearts of anyone involved for his own selfish feelings.

"Never an indiscretion in all the years you've known one another?"

"No"

"So in your own words, please explain to those here how and why you became such a close friend to a married woman."

Pete had never shied away from discussion about his own personal battle with depression, anxiety and all that went along with it. He didn't mind talking about where he was mentally at the time, but he felt bad knowing he may have to mention things that Jen had told him in confidence; things he'd vowed never to reveal to anyone. He cleared his throat and looked her way for a brief second to ask for her forgiveness. They'd already talked about it and she was fine with whatever he needed to say. If it would be the thing to clear his name so that they could all move forward she was one hundred percent behind him in this.

"The day we met," Pete tried to clear his throat again but it didn't help, he still sounded hoarse.

"That day I'd been in a really bad place mentally. My youngest son was only a few months old and it was the first time that I'd been away from him for any extended period. The plan was that I'd make it back home every few weeks, but different things kept coming up and I was starting to feel a lot of anxiety about being away, not knowing when my next chance to see him would be. I was starting to feel a little out of control and the usual things that help me stay grounded weren't working at the time. Because of that I was getting really depressed."

"What sort of things usually help?"

He didn't mind the interruption. His lawyer had promised to make sure he didn't skip anything important and that he'd ask questions so he could clarify information that might make a difference.

"When I'm anxious or depressed I try to get good sleep, eat right, exercise when I can. I make a point of trying to talk to family and friends about what's bothering me."

"Any idea why none of that was helping at the time?"

"A lot of that was unavailable to me at the time. Life on tour is often hectic and many of the people I would usually rely on were busy or dealing with their own problems. Plus, once you’ve reached a certain level of depression climbing out of it gets harder and harder. Eventually you stop trying to help yourself and sort of just get lost in it."

Pete was quiet for a moment, thinking. The words sounded so pathetic in retrospect. All of it was true and it was indeed the connection he and Jen would always share, but he didn't want to use it as an excuse. He wanted to believe that no matter what he would have seen something special in her, because she was an awesome person worth knowing and not just because she'd made him feel human again.

"I feel like I’d reached that point or was very close to it, unless something significant happened. And fortunately it did."

Pete willed himself to relax. He shifted slightly and took a breath. This was so much harder than he'd anticipated. He knew it wouldn't be easy recalling all of the memories and emotions but he was struggling more than he'd like.

"When I met Ms. Masterson and her little boy that afternoon, I met an amazing woman who seemed to be so happy with her situation as a new mom, but so overwhelmed by life in general. It made sense to me and gave me some perspective. It was the reminder I'd needed that I wasn't alone with my issues. We didn't dwell on it really, but for the short time we were together and talking we were kindred. We had new babies, we had recently had to go back to work, and we were both wondering how to deal with the stress that involved. Talking with someone who had issues I could understand, and that I knew could understand things that I was dealing with, was hugely important for me at the time."

Pete glanced her way once more and was pleased to see her return a sad but encouraging smile.

"I did a lot of thinking that afternoon, but it was with a much brighter outlook than I'd been able to manage for the weeks leading up to that day. Instead of calling home before the show that night as I usually would I made time to get on Skype and I got to see my son. I talked for a long time with his mom, and it helped so much more than I'd actually thought it would. Finally starting to feel a bit better about my situation I couldn't help but worry about hers. I knew the impact and encouragement I'd taken away from our conversation, but I had no idea that she'd been so positively affected as well, until that night when I got to meet the rest of her family. Her husband was almost in tears as he thanked me for whatever I'd said to his wife."

Pete closed his eyes for a moment. He'd never forget the sincerity in Derrick's voice or how his gratitude had made him feel. 

"When I mentioned earlier that I'd decided to call again a week or so after the show to see how they were doing, it was exactly that. I'd gotten to go home for a few days and I was doing so much better by then that I just felt this need to check in and make sure she was still headed in the right direction as well."

"And was she?"

"Yes."

"Thanks to whatever you'd said to her that day?"

"I don't know that I can take credit for anything specific but you asked how and why we developed a friendship, and that's the best answer I can give. I appreciated having another person I felt comfortable talking to about certain problems I faced, and Ms. Masterson proved to be a very sympathetic ear when I needed it. I'd like to believe that I was able to provide some of that sympathy in return when she'd needed it too."

"From then on, how often did you communicate with Ms. Masterson?"

"It would depend. Sometimes it would be a few times a month. There were other times when it might be daily."

"Always to talk about things that might be bothering one or the other of you?"

"Early on that was the norm. We'd always ask how the other was doing and we'd end up talking about whatever wasn't going right."

"Could you give an example?"

Pete didn't want to be specific; these were private conversations after all. Still, an example didn't have to be specific.

"For me it was the random argument with one of the guys in the band, or management or something. Sometimes it was just talking about being homesick, missing my kids or whatever. When I'd call home I didn't want to spend time venting about work. I also didn't want to make anyone in the crew worry that I wasn't invested in the job at hand. By having someone else to talk to that wasn't directly involved or affected by my moods I felt comfortable being honest, and I appreciated her advice because I knew she was familiar with a lot the same anxieties I had."

"As time went on did the content of your conversations change?"

Actually their conversations had never been without mention of other things, but Pete wasn't going to correct the assumption. They'd always talked about family and friends and experiences. They laughed about movies and TV shows they liked. And there was always time to tell one another how much they enjoyed each other's company.

"Sure. Neither of us were in a constant state of depression so there would be times we'd talk about the good things that were going on, share stories about vacations or fun stuff we did with the kids. No matter how much we counted on each other to listen when we would need it most it would have turned into its own depressing thing if all we ever did was complain to each other."

"So now, if my math is correct based on what you've told us, you've now known Ms. Masterson for approximately five years?

"Yes."

"You've talked with varying frequency throughout that time?"

"Yes."

"How about her husband; you mentioned that you had become friends with Mr. Masterson as well. How did that come about?"

Pete smiled a bit at the memory. Derrick was a hard person not to like. He was a big man, with an even bigger personality. He was loud and uninhibited; no subject was ever off limits around him. Pete often thought of him as an older, far more mature version of his younger self. He was always joking around and always looking for a party. At the same time he was probably one of the smartest businessmen he'd ever met and a loyal husband who loved his wife and son. There was nothing about Derrick that Pete didn't respect.

"The night I met him," Pete didn't expect the lump to jump back into his throat but the thought of Derrick and what a wonderful guy he was hit him hard in that moment.  
He swallowed and tried to continue.

"I met such a great guy that night. He was that guy who is just a few years older and wiser and he's doing everything right and you just want to know him so that maybe one day you can learn to be that guy."

Tears were falling freely without his permission and his voice had taken on such a sad quality that Pete didn't even recognize it as his own. 

"He was so outgoing and friendly; you just couldn't help but like him."

"You considered him a close friend?"

Pete nodded hoping he wouldn't have to speak for a moment and thankfully his lawyer understood.

"Did you stay in touch with Mr. Masterson after the show as well?"

"Yes."

Pete rubbed his face and tried to pull himself together. The idea of avoiding too much emotion was out the window already but he could at least make an attempt.

"If Ms. Masterson was instrumental in helping you through various anxieties and some depression as you'd mentioned, what sort communication did you and her husband exchange?”

"He was a bigger fan of the band and our music than his wife, so a lot of our early conversations were about that. We had a lot of other common interests though, books, sports, our kids were the same age. He was in the restaurant industry and at the time I also co-owned a restaurant so we'd talk about business sometimes."

Pete truly missed Derrick.

"Did you see Ms. Masterson or her husband in person again after that initial meeting in 2015?"

"Yes."

"And what were the circumstances?"

"It was another concert, which was maybe 6 or 8 months after the first. We played a show in Atlanta which is a pretty easy drive from Charleston. When I found out they were planning to come I made similar arrangements for them to have passes and access like I did for the other show."

"How much time would you estimate you were able to spend with them then?"

"Not much actually. We spoke for a little while before and after the show, but it was one of those stops were we arrived in town with just enough time to set up and do the normal routine for the day. After, we left and headed to the next city overnight in order to get there and do it all over again."

Pete wasn't lying about the limited amount of time he'd gotten to spend with them that day, but he had completely glossed over how meaningful that time was. They'd made plans to meet up during his next break from touring. He wanted Jen and Derrick to meet his kids and Megan. He wanted his family to know these great people he seemed to find himself always talking about. And from then on their lives had become thoroughly entwined.

"Were there other times when you saw Ms. Masterson and her husband?"

Pete was still lost in the memory of that day in Atlanta, so he hesitated briefly. He couldn't help it though. Seeing Jen that day and talking to her again in person had been amazing. It was just as effortless as he’d expected, but what made it even better was seeing her smile again. It was immediately evident that her relationship with Derrick was thriving and that she'd finally settled happily into motherhood, which in his opinion only enhanced what was so great about her. It was enough to make his heart swell to the point of breaking.  
Fortunately they were so emotionally attuned to one another by then, thanks to the countless conversations they'd shared, that she knew exactly how he was feeling and what he'd needed most. Before he had to leave them and prepare to take the stage that night, he took time to shake Derrick's hand and when he’d turned to her, Jen never hesitated to reach out and hug him. When she'd wrapped her arms around his neck she'd held on tight and whispered his name. It was all he'd needed to know just how important seeing him again had been for her.

"Go kick some ass, Wentz." She'd then encouraged him in her usual way before grabbing Derrick's hand, rushing back out front so they wouldn't miss the start of the show. His heart was still swollen but it was unbreakable in that moment.

Pete cleared his throat once more replaying the last question and how he should answer.

"I had a break later that year and I took my family on vacation to Charleston. We'd all expressed an interest in spending some time with one another and it was a nice city to visit so we made it happen."

"How long was that visit for?"

"About a week."

"And did that start a precedent of sorts?"

"I guess you could say that. We continued to keep in touch and when it was convenient or if we were close by we'd meet up and spend time together."

"Can you recall the longest period you went without seeing Mr. or Ms. Masterson after you'd established that level of correspondence?"

He knew an exact answer but he kept his response vague. If he was asked more specifically he'd have to mention why, and he'd rather avoid that for now.

"We probably got together for some reason or another every few months. The longest stretch without seeing them was maybe...6 months or so."

"And that was the norm for you all, until Derrick's untimely death?"

"Yes."

Pete appreciated his lawyer's attempt to soften the words, but it was always hard to be reminded of it.

"How did you learn of his death?"

"Ms. Masterson called to tell me."

"What was your first thought at the time?"

Pete knew that the goal was to ask the right questions and allow him to get through this as quickly as possible, but he knew the other attorney wouldn't allow him the same privilege when it was his turn. That in mind he reverted back to simple answers with no extra information unless it was specifically asked for. It was getting late in the day so if he was lucky this might be the last thing he was required to talk about, at least for now.

"I was upset and concerned."

"Did you go and see Ms. Masterson after you'd learned of her husband's death?"

"Yes."

"What was your intention at the time?"

Another stupid question in his opinion, but he knew why it needed to be asked.

"I wanted to be available. We'd supported each other through so much over the years and this was a situation way worse than anything either of us had faced before so I had no idea what else I could do."

And the lump was back. Remembering that phone call, and the next few hours, much less the days that would follow were some of Pete's hardest memories to endure.

The dear man questioning him obviously noticed the change in his posture once more and moved on quickly.

"So please tell the court when and how it was that you first met the defendant?"

Pete glanced unconsciously at the man sitting off to his right and looked away quickly. 

This was a very unusual case in that Pete was the one suing this man, however his own testimony could also make a case for the very thing this piece of slime had falsely suggested. The police were aware of this man’s attempt to blackmail him, which would ordinarily be enough to clear his name of any wrong doing, but thanks to the complicated nature of his relationship with Jen things were never going to be that simple.

"I met Mr. Perkins a few days after I had arrived to check on Ms. Masterson and her son following Mr. Masterson's death. He approached me in the parking lot outside of a fast food place." 

"What was the purpose of that meeting?"

"I initially thought he was a fan or something because he knew who I was, called me by name. After I'd said hello, he randomly told me that I owed him money. I was confused so I asked why, thinking it was some sort of joke and he told me that I knew why."

Pete remembered how angry he'd been when it had dawned on him what this guy was talking about. 

"Did you know why?"

"Not specifically at the time, but I had an idea what he was suggesting."

"And what was that?"

Pete paused for a second so that he didn't start swearing.

"Because of the way Mr. Masterson died there was an ongoing police investigation to try and find whoever was responsible. As a part of that investigation I was questioned by the police a few days after I'd arrived in town. The officer I spoke to had indicated there was mention of my name and my relationship with the Masterson's by one of the people who had come forward with supposed information. I wasn't certain who might have been responsible for bringing my name to the police but I knew enough to be leery of a guy I'd never met asking for money all of a sudden."

"Did Mr. Perkins, mention your relationship with the Masterson's or that he knew you had some connection with them?"

"He did?"

"And what did he have to say about it?"

Pete again took a moment to reign in his anger. He wanted to punch something every time he thought about this whole mess and how it had further complicated Derrick's death and his family's ability to grieve.

"He insinuated that I had hired someone to kill Mr. Masterson so that I could pursue a relationship with his wife. He claimed that he had enough evidence to get me arrested for it and that if I wanted to avoid trouble I'd pay him to keep quiet."

"Did he mention an amount he was looking for?" 

"Two million."

"Did you believe at the time that Mr. Perkins might have had actual evidence against you?"

"No."

"Did you ever entertain the possibility that you should pay him just to make things easier?"

"No."

Pete was having a hard time keeping the answers brief. He wanted to explain so much more but he knew his temper wouldn't allow him to do so without saying too much.

"How did the encounter in the parking lot with Mr. Perkins come to an end?"

"I told him that he had no idea what he was talking about and that he could tell whoever whatever he wanted. I wasn't going to allow him to bully me into paying him money when all he was threatening to do was tell lies. He promised me that I'd be sorry and walked away."

"Did you tell anyone of his threats after that?"

"I mentioned it to Ms. Masterson first and then to the police."

"What did the police have to say?"

"They said they'd look into it. I didn't know his name or how to find him. I was able to describe him to the police, but they said it was unlikely that he'd come to them right away. They said most people looking to blackmail someone try more than once to get the money before actually making good on a threat."

And that was exactly what had happened, daily for the next four days. Each time he was approached by Mr. Perkins or someone who claimed to be associated with him he'd contact the police again. Unfortunately there was nothing to be done but wait for them to actually go to the police, thanks to the timing and way in which he was always approached. But sure enough they finally did.

"When were you made aware that Mr. Perkins had actually gone to the police?"

"About five days after I'd met him. The police came to me and let me know someone had finally shown up with this supposed evidence, telling the same story I'd been threatened with."

"And what was the outcome of that visit with the police?"

Pete glanced at the man who was responsible for this and then looked back at his lawyer, but before he answered he let his eyes wander to hers once more.

"I found myself in a very complicated position. I was trying to do the right thing, wanting to be there to help and comfort a friend and her little boy who had just lost the most important person in their lives, but because of my celebrity I'd attracted too much attention and given too many people the wrong impression. Although the police knew that Mr. Perkins had attempted to blackmail me first, the evidence he brought to them when he finally made good on his threat was enough for them to question my intentions where the Masterson's were concerned."

"Were you told what this evidence was exactly?"

"He had repeated the story that I had hired someone to kill Mr. Masterson and provided some type of contract with my signature on it."

"Was it actually your signature?"

"Yes."

"And how do you believe he came by such a document with your signature on it?"

"My signature is readily available and not hard to come by. I sign autographs the exact same way that I sign anything else. I figured he must have found something with my signature on it and added it to the contract to make it look real."

"So you believed that this document had been fabricated in some way using a copy of your actual signature?"

"Yes."

"Did the police indicate that you were in any trouble? That you had become a suspect?"

Pete exhaled slowly; he was feeling an intense combination of physical and emotional fatigue all of a sudden.

"They said they couldn't charge me with anything until they determined if the contract was real or not, but suggested I seek the advice of a lawyer. If anything came of it, they were certain I would become a person of interest. Just the suggestion of my involvement and the reason for it was enough to keep my name in the conversation until they could find evidence that was more compelling." 

"How long before you were told that it was indeed a fake?"

"The next day the same officer came back to say their lab had determined that it wasn't real."

"Did you decide to press charges against Mr. Perkins at that time?"

Pete knew that this was where he had to be careful. Although the contract was a fake and police knew it, there was still the question of motive. With or without a piece of paper saying he'd actually hired someone to get Derrick out of the way, his relationship with Jen was still suspect.

"I was so relieved that the truth had come out, and hopeful that maybe all of that mess would be behind me that I didn't want to press charges at first. I just figured okay, so he tried to get some money but didn't do a good enough job convincing the police I'd done anything wrong in the end, that's over, no harm no foul.”

“What changed your mind?”

Pete had wanted to go court for this very reason. He’d argued with his lawyer, begging to be called to testify so that he could be the one to say the words. Despite the risk of calling more attention to his relationship with Jen, he had to point out how this matter had so unfairly complicated Derrick’s death—and for what? 

“By the time the police had figured out that they didn’t really have any hard evidence the local media had already picked up on the fact that I was being questioned, which led to the national media reporting on it as well. Now all of a sudden this wasn't just some guy looking for money, making up lies that I could forget about. Now my name, Ms. Masterson's name and reputation, were being unfairly scrutinized by thousands of people. I felt like I had to do something at that point. Not only did I want to correct the negative assumptions people were starting to make, but I also didn't want my name and my notoriety to become a distraction that would slow down or prevent the police from ultimately finding whoever was actually responsible. Derrick’s family and friends deserve better. They should be able to get some answers and find closure, but this person and his greed has prevented us from being able to grieve in peace. "

He noticed that Jen’s expression was calm, which helped him relax a bit. After all there wasn't much else to say now, and that was a relief. He knew he'd suffer through some ridiculous questions once the defense attorney had his chance to interrogate him, but at this point he felt like he'd survived round one reasonably well.

“You understand the risk you take by opening yourself up to the scrutiny of this court in order to seek retribution for Mr. Perkin’s attempted blackmail?”

“I do.”

“The investigation into the death of Derrick Masterson is still ongoing, and at present your friendship with Ms. Masterson is still being called into question as a possible motive. Why not wait for the actual killer to be found first? Why not wait for proof of your innocence to be established by the police before moving forward with this case?”

They were the exact same questions his lawyer had asked when they had spoken about his options so many months ago now, when all of this started to seem inevitable. Pete had given him an honest answer then and it had been the thing which persuaded his lawyer to actually take the case and move forward with it. It was the same answer he’d give now.

“I know the truth and I know what’s in my heart, but unfortunately it’s nearly impossible to prove that to anyone else. People lie, they try to take advantage of others. They see a celebrity who has been successful and they forget that we are people with feelings and families. They don’t consider what their actions do to the people who are important to them. Because Mr. Perkins felt like he could make some money if he were to suggest I had any involvement with Derrick’s death, here we are seven months later and no one knows who is actually responsible. We may never know at this point, but I don’t want that to be because of me. I have nothing to hide; and whether the questions come as a part of this case or as a part of a police investigation, I’m happy to answer them so that if more time goes by and no one can tell us why Derrick was shot and who did it, then at least it won’t be because of what this man’s greed has led so many people to believe.”

“So in conclusion Mr. Wentz, after all that has happened, all that you and the Masterson family have been through in regard to your friend Derrick Masterson's death, all of these accusations and threats you've been unfairly made to endure, how would you classify your current relationship with Jennifer Masterson?"

"She's still one of my very best friends."

Pete's heart lightened and he managed to smile. It was a small smile, just an unconscious reaction to the words he'd so honestly shared, but it made him happy to be able to say it. His lawyer nodded his approval and told the judge that he was done questioning the witness.

"Mr. Wentz, you may step down." He was told prior to the judge laying out his plan for the following day. 

Pete wanted nothing more than to leave the courthouse, find some food and a bed he could fall into until then, but he couldn't seem to move. He just sat there watching his parents, his bandmates, and of course Jen, all sitting quietly, all returning that same small smile he'd felt himself wearing moments before. It wasn't over but it would be soon enough, and no matter the outcome he took comfort in the fact that he had such a great support system behind him in this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place the following day, as Pete is being cross examined by the defense attorney.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to those who have decided to give this one a chance!

“Good morning, Mr. Wentz. I’d like to commend you on your performance yesterday. You are surprisingly articulate, aren’t you?”

“Objection”

“Sustained,” the judge agreed in a bored tone.

“Just an observation,” the defense attorney stubbornly mentioned before moving on.

Pete was exhausted this morning, both mentally and physically and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for some lawyer taking cheap shots at him already. He never thought he’d have an easy go of it during the cross examination process, but he hadn’t been prepared for an actual insult to come his way either. Still, he didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with this guy so he just bit his tongue and waited patiently for an actual question.

"My hope is that we can keep this relatively brief for you today. I'd just like to clarify a few details and see if we can't get a better picture of the events that have led us here."

Whatever he wanted people to believe Pete knew that this guy had no interest in helping him out, especially after he’d already suggested that he’d been expecting a less than intelligent testimony from him in the first place. Rather than dwelling on it however, Pete forced himself to remain focused as a way to indicate he was ready for whatever else was going to be thrown at him today; unfortunately he found that it was a difficult task to maintain a neutral facial expression while watching this man approach him like some bad actor in a crime drama.

"So to begin; you mentioned during your testimony yesterday that when you first met Ms. Masterson you were at a coffee shop. Since this was a public place I was wondering, did anyone else recognize you while you were there, approach you perhaps?"

"The girl making our coffees knew who I was. I remember giving her an autograph. I'm pretty sure I took a picture with her as well."

“But you didn't offer her tickets to the show? No special access?"

Being cautious he kept his answer simple and honest without elaborating.

"No." 

"When Ms. Masterson and her family came to the concert that night, could you estimate the amount of time you actually got to talk to her or her husband?"

"No. It was brief, but I couldn't be specific."

Pete was mildly surprised that the lawyer had chosen to move on rather than dwelling on the previous question about the girl in the coffee shop. He'd been bracing himself for some sort of accusation. Things started to click however when he watched the lawyer wander back to the podium across from the stand and begin making several satisfied marks on a legal pad he’d left there.

"Now the week following the show, when you’d reached out to Ms. Masterson to inquire how she was doing; what time of day did that correspondence take place?"

Pete hesitated briefly and glanced towards his lawyer. He wasn't looking for guidance or an intervention; instead he was hoping to provide an advanced warning. He knew that this was some sort of trap. If he continued to give basic answers, keeping any explanation to a minimum as he'd been encouraged, he was going to wind up contradicting just about every aspect of the story he'd described during the previous day's questioning. He knew that he had to behave, but he wasn't going to allow this guy to have his way without a fight.

"It was after a show, so I'd have to guess it was around midnight."

"I'd like to also touch on..."

"I know that seems odd. Midnight is late for most people, but life on tour doesn't afford me a 9 to 5 schedule. Plus, Ms. Masterson works the nightshift at a hospital, so for us it was a perfectly normal time of day to chat for a little while."

Pete caught a hint of frustration in the young lawyer's stance all of a sudden. He had rattled him slightly by interrupting his next question, which was undoubtedly designed to move on and negate some other aspect of his prior testimony.  
Pete was perfectly serious right now, and hated to take pleasure in such a small victory when so much more was at stake, but there was a part of his personality that made taking such a stand as necessary as it was satisfying. He had one chance to get this right so he wasn't going to sit back and let some attention seeking attorney attempt to manhandle him.  
After clearing his throat and consulting his notepad once more the attorney walked towards him again.

"Phone calls aside, we've heard from yourself and others that you would often visit Ms. Masterson when you had time away from other obligations. Was there ever a time when her late husband was not present?"

"Sure."

He could take his nonchalant tone however he'd like in Pete's opinion. He was already pissed off and wouldn't be intimidated by the game this guy wanted to play.

"Was Mr. Masterson aware of those times when you would visit and he was not present?"

Pete appreciated that he was finally willing to stay on topic for a change so he answered without any attitude this time.

"Derrick was always aware of when I would visit. He had a pretty demanding job though and occasionally when he had to work we would still get together to let the kids hang out or go to lunch or something, but never without his knowledge."

"How many children do you have, Mr. Wentz?"

"Two boys."

"What is your current relationship with their mother?"

Pete knew that this would come up, but it still grated on him that he would have to defend his past relationships, as if it made any difference. What bothered him more was the opportune segue he'd allowed by mentioning the kids in the first place—he wouldn't make that mistake again. 

"Mothers actually; my oldest son I had with my ex-wife while we were married. We still have a really good relationship and share fifty-fifty custody. My younger son I had with a former girlfriend who I was with for many years. We still get along as well and share a similar agreement as far as parenting."

"When did the latter relationship end?"

"Approximately a year ago."

"Why?"

Pete wanted to launch himself off of the witness stand and smack this guy; he wanted to scream, because as much as he hated to admit it, this guy was good. He was finally asking the right questions and if he continued to lead him down this path Pete would end up admitting far too much.

"Why does any relationship end? We grew apart. We couldn't see ourselves moving forward together anymore."

"Who was the first person you called after your relationship was over?"

"My mother." It was true.

"And then?"

"My manager, some of the guys from the band; my Dad called me. I know I talked to my older son later that day."

Pete still couldn't find a reason to smile but the challenge was evident in his tone, as well as his eyes, as he awaited the next question, dying for it to come so he could give his next answer.

"At what point did you make Ms. Masterson aware of this development?"

"After I talked to her husband. I called Derrick for some advice about something else a few weeks after all of that had happened and he insisted I talk to her after he found out."

Another true statement. 

Derrick knew the importance of their friendship. He knew of Pete's past, his dark moods, the hopelessness he was prone to. He'd never deny his friend the advice and comfort his wife might be able to offer him in a situation like that.  
What he didn't say and what he was praying no one would ask was how Jen had reacted to hearing this news. 

The information he'd divulged was honest. He and Megan had grown apart. She was traveling a lot thanks to her career, and so was he. They hardly saw one another anymore and when they did it was all business and complaints, never a happy reunion. When they would try to carve out time to work on their relationship it always ended with fights and hurt feelings.  
They never got around to getting married so the split was without fanfare, and thanks to how hectic their lifestyles were already their son had adjusted easily enough.  
Jen on the other hand had had questions. Their relationship from the start was one that walked a very thin line. During that first meeting so long ago in a random coffee shop they had set a tone between the two of them where nothing was off limits. Jokes, innuendo and an openness that most people would be uncomfortable with had defined their friendship from the start, but the one thing that had always managed to keep it from becoming awkward was their ties to other people. They valued their respective relationships and would never compromise them for the sake of their own attraction. 

They called each other Hon and Babe and Sweetheart, something they'd started doing within the first few moments of meeting one another. They openly praised each other as sexy or beautiful; and a wink or smile was never far away when they were together. It was as innocent as that however, because Pete had Megan and Jen had Derrick. But then Megan was gone. And Jen didn't know what that meant.

Pete had avoided that phone call for as long as he could bear. Jen knew that they hadn't been getting along for a while, but she was always encouraging, always looking for ways to make him try and work it out. If he hadn't valued Derrick's advice in business so much he would have avoided the call for a lot longer, but he didn't know where else to turn. He hadn't wanted to disappoint her, and he knew as well as she did the questions they would be forced to ask as a result. 

"Why, Pete?" she'd said to him.

"You know why," was all he could muster as a reply.

They hadn't spoken again after that until Pete would be shaken to his very core nearly six months later.

"And what was Ms. Masterson's reaction to the news?"

Pete wouldn't lie, although he was cursing his bad luck.

"She was upset."

"Why?"

He could speculate what was implied, what he was worried would look so bad to anyone on the outside looking in, but he instead parroted back what she'd actually said to him. It was the safer, easier answer anyway.

"It was sad for me and Megan and our son. No relationship ending is ever easy and it’s hard for the people who care about those involved as well."

What he could never say was that his heart had no longer been up for the effort that relationship had required of him when it was so thoroughly invested in someone else.

"Did you go and see Ms. Masterson after that?”

"No."

"Was there a reason?"

"Not really. Life just got busy for a while after that."

That might have been a lie; at least a very liberal bending of the truth.

"Did you call again?"

"Occasionally."

He did call but Jen never answered anymore.

"How long was it after your breakup before you saw each other again?" 

Pete remained quiet and contemplative for a moment. He wanted to speak clearly, he wanted to give the information that would prove he was innocence of what this man was trying to imply, but this was where the story started to get more suspect, no matter how you'd try and explain things. No game needed, no tricks were necessary. The question in and of itself would accomplish exactly was this guy had set out to do.

"It was about six months."

It was the longest period they'd ever spent apart after seeing one another that night in Atlanta. They never talked anymore. They'd only texted occasionally, just to make sure the other was okay, neither willing to abandon the other fully. 

"And what were the circumstances that brought you two together again?"

Her voice was in his head reminding him that she loved him, she believed him, and she'd always be there for him. And just like that his bravado collapsed. Pete tried to clear his throat but it came out as a soft sob instead and there was no going back.

If meeting Jen had made that day one of his best, hearing the sound of her voice the night she'd finally called him had definitely made that day one of his worst.

"Pete?"

He'd been asleep so he was confused for a moment wondering if the sound of her voice was actually part of a dream. 

"Hon...I need you."

The hesitation and raw emotion he could hear in her voice made his heart stop. He'd been waiting for her to reach out to him for what had begun to seem like forever, but he couldn't make sense out of what would have her calling him like this; and why was she so upset?

His confusion was met with a prolonged silence.

"Jen? What's going on?" He finally managed.

The silence continued.

"Are you ok? Where are you?"

"Home," she practically whispered.

Pete was panicked by then looking around until he found the clock and checked the time. It was 2am which meant it was 3 there. Why was she at home but calling him in the middle of the night?

"Are you okay?" he repeated more forcefully.

"It's Derrick...Oh God, Pete..."

"Baby talk to me, please."

It felt like a lifetime had passed while he listened to her sobbing on the other end, his heart slowly breaking before she quietly informed him, "He's gone." 

He didn't even take time to consider what that really meant before he was up and moving. He pulled on some jeans and a hoodie that had been nearby, grabbing his wallet and keys on his way to the door.

"Where's Sean?"

"Sweetheart, please." He stopped and sighed when she didn’t answer; he couldn't function properly until he knew that he was okay and being taken care of.

"He's with Mandy."

"Don't move; I'm coming to you."

"Hon…"

"I can be to you in about three hours."

He'd made the trip from Chicago a number of times and knew that the flights were frequent and fairly short.

"Pete?"

"I love you, Jen. Everything is going to be fine."

With that the call had ended so that he could arrange a flight and be on his way. He'd texted her a few times to keep her up to date on his progress but they didn't speak again until he arrived at her door.

She hadn't been capable of telling him all the details in her current state. She hadn't been able to drag herself out of bed for more than a few minutes here or there since the police had arrived on her doorstep. Pete had no way of knowing that things weren't going to be fine, but he was determined to help in any way that he could.

"I got a phone call from her a few days after Derrick had passed to let me know that something had happened." 

Pete cleared his throat feeling the now familiar lump return and he made no attempt to hide the tears pooling in his eyes. The memory had just been too powerful.

"I got on a plane that night and went to her."

"Why?"

Pete closed his eyes momentarily to get conceal his temper. He could easily see himself tearing this idiot's head right off of his shoulders.

"I had just gotten a call in the middle of the night telling me that something awful had happened to one of my friends. I would have flown halfway around the world to be there, to do whatever I could to help."

"Did Ms. Masterson ask you to come?"

He hesitated.

"Not exactly."

"Please explain."

"She was very upset on the phone. We didn't say much; she just told me that something had happened with Derrick. She was hardly able to talk so I didn't know of anything else I could do but to go her, hopefully find out more about what had happened once I got there."

"Did you tell anyone you were going or where you would be?"

"I called my manager and my parents afterwards, once it was a better time of day."

"What time did you arrive at Ms. Masterson's that day?"

"Probably 5:30 or 6. It was just starting to get close to daylight."

"Your manager testified that you called him that afternoon. Your father estimated a similar time. What transpired in the meantime after your arrival?"

He knew the details of that encounter with just as much clarity as those that had taken place the day they'd met, but he'd not divulge them either.

He had caught a flight from Chicago to Charleston that was literally boarding within thirty minutes of his arrival at the airport and it was just a short drive to Jen's place once he'd landed. He'd texted her as soon as the plane touched down simply stating ‘Here’. When he'd made it to her door it was unlocked and he let himself in. The place was eerily quiet.

"Jen...Babe, where are you?" he called softly.

The sight that answered his question nearly killed him. Jen had stepped through the doorway of her bedroom looking disheveled, eyes swollen, hair a mess, completely broken. She was wearing one of Derrick's shirts which was wrinkled and twisted about her body, her arms wrapped protectively around her middle.

"Pete," was all she'd been able to say before falling into his open arms, breaking down in a way that he'd never seen another person do before.

They'd held each other and cried for a long time. Somewhere in the mix of all the emotion she'd been able to confirm his worst fear, the very thing he'd realized the moment he'd seen her looking so shattered. Derrick wasn't just gone, as in he'd left or disappeared. He was dead; killed by someone in a senseless act, a drive-by of all things, while he was coming out of his restaurant after work late one night.

He didn't even know how much time had actually passed, but eventually they were silent, sitting in an awkward position on the floor still holding on to one another. He moved slowly, carefully adjusting his balance so he could scoop her into his arms. As he walked through and laid her in bed he kissed her gently on her forehead and selfishly enjoyed the way her hand touched the side of his face as he lingered there a moment longer than was probably necessary.

"Have you eaten?" he wanted to know.

She just shook her head. 

"Get some rest", he implored and left her briefly to find out what was in the house that he could make for her and took a moment to himself to just breathe. 

He knew she wouldn't sleep so once he'd dealt with the initial shock of this new reality he’d brought her some coffee and a sandwich, and then sat next to her while she slowly attempted to stomach the first food she'd tasted in more than two days. Once she was calmer he’d taken time to ask all the questions he needed to know. When and how, and what the police were doing about it all? Did Sean know yet? What sort of arrangements had been made and what he could do to help? It took a while to get through it all and there were several tearful breaks where Pete found himself just holding her.  
It was midday by the time they had a basic plan and a moment to talk to anyone else. 

It was true that Pete had called home first. He'd also made the call to his manager shortly after that, however it was another phone call that he’d taken much earlier that had been the most important. It was that phone call which actually forced them to function outside of their own grief. It was a call that Pete didn’t want to talk about, but he knew that it was necessary.

Pete sighed and finally let his hand wipe away some of the wetness clinging to his face. He watched as his hand moved up and down his thigh trying to dry the evidence of his heartache. When he looked up he saw his mother and father, his bandmates and of course Jen all waiting for him to continue. He once again found strength in their support.

"When I got to her house it had been only a few hours after we'd spoken and she was basically in the same state—so upset that it took a long time to make sense of what was really going on. We sat together for hours, talking, crying, just thinking really. It was so much to process at the time." He felt like he couldn't breathe but he pressed on.

"I'd never seen someone so...distraught. She hadn't slept or eaten anything in almost two days." He paused trying to fight the pain his chest and briefly lost his train of thought.

"Mr. Wentz?"

He never looked up but started talking again.

"I made her some food, but she could hardly eat. I tried to get her to rest, but she couldn't relax. It was like watching someone slowly dying on the inside and all I could do was sit there and wait for whatever came next."

Pete did look up then with a new fire in his eyes. He looked right at the lawyer forcing him to speak the words and explained how it was finally her son that brought her back.

"After a long while her phone went off but she never made a move to answer it. I looked at it to see who was calling and it was her sister. She'd already said that her sister was keeping her son so I went ahead and picked it up, worried that she might need something important."

When Mandy had heard Pete's voice on the other end of the line there was audible relief despite her words.

"Thank God, Wentz! It's about fucking time."

He didn't take any offense. He knew exactly what she'd meant. It was just her way of validating that he was indeed who Jen needed most to help her cope with all that had happened.

"You could have called me." He just replied sadly.

"You know it had to come from her and in her own time. If she hadn't called you by now though, I was probably going to insist on it."

The conversation was a short one after that. Sean had been becoming increasingly agitated having to wait and wonder how his mom was doing. He was young but he was smart; he'd just lost his father and he loved his mother. Mandy had finally run out excuses as to why they couldn't go and check on her.

"I'll get her there." Pete had promised.

A few minutes later he returned to the bedroom and found Jen curled into the fetal position lying with her back towards the door. He wanted to lie down beside her, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, he wanted to become a shield and protect her from everything and everyone. But he couldn't. Instead Pete sat carefully on the edge of the bed behind her and touched her arm.

"Babe...that was Mandy," he said gently watching her body slump.

"I don't want him to see me like this." she replied eventually. 

He couldn't argue with that but he had to try.

"Jen," he waited until she glanced back at him, "your boy needs you. It's not fair, none of this is, but we've got to do the best we can now...for him."

He'd meant it collectively, ‘him’ referring to both Derrick and Sean, and apparently it had been just what she'd needed to hear. Her family always came first, and while she was grieving for the loss of her husband, she could never ignore the needs of her son. His words had touched her in a way that Pete wouldn’t understand until a few days later, but he could tell instantly by the fierce grip of her hand holding on to his that he’d somehow broken the cycle and that she was willing to find a renewed strength thanks to his presence and willingness to help.  
It was decided shortly after that she would shower and get changed before riding over to Mandy's to get Sean. It was while she was busy with that that he'd taken time to call home.

"Ms. Masterson's sister indicated that Sean was getting restless and wanted to see his mom. She wanted to call and check on her, see if she was up to spending some time with them. After I told her about the call it took Ms. Masterson a little while to get herself together, she wanted to shower and change before going to pick him up, but she'd decided that she wanted Sean to be home with her. I made my calls before we left.”

"You accompanied Ms. Masterson to retrieve her son?"

"Yes."

"How would you describe your relationship with her child?"

Pete didn't like where this was going, but his heart softened whenever he thought of Sean. He'd been all of four months old the day they’d met, just a few months younger than his son. He'd seen the boy grow up and he loved him like his own.

"I'm Uncle Pete." he simply said and shrugged a bit, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

"Does that mean you have a close relationship with the child?"

"Yes."

"Was he surprised to see you that day?"

"I'm not sure."

They'd never talked about it in those terms. He was glad to see him, but he didn't know if the boy had thought of his presence as a surprise exactly.

"How did he react to seeing you?"

Pete experienced another knife to his heart, and fought back the memory.  
He'd driven Jen the few miles across town to her sister's place and when they'd pulled into the driveway Pete saw the door fly open and little Sean come running out to greet them. They hadn't called back to say they were coming, which meant that the poor kid was probably just sitting at the window waiting and had recognized his mother's car when they pulled up. It was an awful thought.

Jen had given Pete's hand a gentle squeeze before climbing out of the car. It was the assurance he had needed to know that he was supposed to be there, that Sean would want to see him and that she was thankful for his support. As he opened the car door he noticed the slightest hesitation when Sean recognized him as the driver instead of his mother. Pete had glanced over and noticed Jen give her son a sad smile and a little nod letting him know that she was okay. With that the boy had launched himself into Pete's arms, and for the second time that day he'd found himself holding one of the most important people in his life as they cried.  
He could hardly move for fear of collapsing but it was actually the sad sound of this precious boy, who had started to babble and sob incoherently, muttering his name that actually took him to his knees.

"Uncle Pete...my daddy, daddy he's…"

"I know. I know, buddy. God...I know..."

Pete had never really had any desire to actually kill someone until that moment. He wanted to find the son of a bitch that had shot Derrick and literally kill them. No child should ever have to suffer through this kind of pain and heartache. Not a boy so sweet, and smart, and young. Not a child who was so loved by his parents...by him.

Time stood still for the second time that day, as he did his best to comfort the poor child and felt as though he was failing miserably. When Pete finally got himself together and Sean had dissolved into just an occasional hiccup he noticed that Mandy, Jen's sister, had come outside as well and was silently comforting her as they sympathetically gave them all the time they needed.

"Sean was..." Pete shifted his position slightly feeling ten kinds of uncomfortable once again. "He was upset obviously, about what had happened. He hugged me and kept trying to tell me what had happened, but he was too..."

Pete felt himself getting choked up all over again.

"He was so upset. I just held him and hugged him and let him cry... we cried together."

Pete tried to sit up straighter and stretched his neck, he seriously needed a break at this point or he was convinced that he was going to throw up.

"Just a few more questions before we take a recess, Mr. Wentz." The judge thankfully interjected.

He exhaled slowly and forced himself to sit still again. 

"I'd like to hear about what transpired over the next couple of days, Mr. Wentz. As we've heard in other testimony, you remained in town for ten days after you'd arrived. Let's focus on the first couple of days."

Pete raised his eyebrow to request an actual question.

"Where did you stay during that time?"

"I stayed at Ms. Masterson's house."

"On the sofa?"

"The floor actually, in her son's room."

"And yet you have a residence of your own in Charleston. How long have you owned a house there?"

"About 2 years ago I bought a condo in town."

"Why?"

Pete sighed, but continued to answer with nothing more than facts. He’d started giving more details in hopes of combating the lawyer’s earlier tactic of jumping from one subject to the next without clarification, but now he just wanted to move through these questions as quickly as possible.

"My family and I were visiting pretty frequently. My youngest boy enjoyed coming to see Ms. Masterson's son whenever we could. They'd become good friends, kind of like pen pals or whatever. We'd take extended trips during the summer so eventually it made sense to buy a place for convenience."

"You bought a house so that your son could visit his pen pal?"

He didn't appreciate the condescending tone or the fact this man obviously didn't want to believe the truth so Pete let his guard slip and snapped back for a second.

"I'm famous. It's what we do." He offered, completely straight faced and serious. 

The courtroom had been silent and very stoic to this point, the seriousness of this trial not lost on anyone present, but Pete felt his chest swell when Joe experienced a brief coughing fit thanks to an unexpected laugh of surprise he hadn't been able to control. That and the tick which occurred almost instantly in the lawyer's jaw was very satisfying.

"So why did you stay with Ms. Masterson and not at your own place?"

"I stayed with her son. He was sad and scared and he didn't want me to leave. Je...Ms. Masterson was having a hard enough time so I was just there to keep Sean company and give her a little less to worry about.

He was getting really tired of calling Jen, Ms. Masterson, as if saying her name automatically meant he'd had sex with her.

"So to review, you arrived in the early hours of Thursday morning the seventh of April and you stayed at the Masterson residence for how long after that?"

"It was that day and two more after that."

"What occurred that caused you to leave at that time, when it has been confirmed that you were actually in town for ten days after your arrival?"

Now he felt a tick take up residence in his own jaw.

"The police came to the house on the third day. They'd been in touch with Ms. Masterson off and on, but only by phone to give details or ask questions about the investigation going on. When the officer showed up I offered to take Sean out for a while so they could talk privately. We all kind of thought that he was there to talk to her about finally releasing Derrick's body so that she could arrange his funeral."

"But you didn't."

"No, the officer had asked me to stay."

"For what reason?"

"He was actually there to talk to me and ask some questions."

"Was he there to arrest you?"

"No, he said that he was just there to follow up on a tip."

"What sort of questions were asked?"

"How long I'd know Mr. and Ms. Masterson? What our relationship was? Where I was on the night Derrick had been shot?"

"Did you answer the officer's questions?"

"Yes."

"Did the officer give you any indication of where this tip had come from or why you were being questioned?"

"No."

"Did he suggest you stop staying at the house?"

"No."

"So how was his visit instrumental in your decision to leave the Masterson residence for the remainder of your stay?"

"I'm not a fool. I come from a family of lawyers. My father is a lawyer. I watch CSI. The random guy, who also happens to be well known, who is now staying with a newly widowed woman, lends too much drama to the situation for most people to ignore." 

Pete wanted to say more but he was cut off by the attorney, and though it was annoying it was probably for the best. His emotions had settled enough for his anger to resurface so he needed to be careful.

"So you are implying that it didn't look right for you to be there, staying with Ms. Masterson under the circumstances?"

Pete didn't care about this guy's tactics anymore and he didn't feel the need to verbally answer this time either. He was ready to rage on someone the second they actually said the words so he was trying his best to avoid that particular moment.

"In retrospect was there any event that took place between your arrival and the visit from this police officer that you've described that might have led someone to look at this situation as odd?"

He didn't need to think about it; he knew immediately where the idea had started, but he didn't know how it had been brought to the attention of the police or why exactly until much later.

He had been open to doing whatever Jen was most comfortable with once they'd gotten Sean home and settled. When it had been decided that he would stay that first night with them they had ordered in a pizza for dinner. It had been a hectic day and Pete had been awake a lot longer than he usually liked. Desperate to somehow wake himself up and survive the rest of the evening he'd opted to take a shower while Jen and Sean were quietly hanging out in the kitchen waiting for the food to arrive.  
Jen knew by then that he hadn't brought anything with him in his haste to get there so she'd kindly offered to launder his clothes so he'd have something clean until he could get by his place the next day; everyone too tired and not feeling up for more than was necessary at the time. While he waited for his things to dry he'd opted to just wrap up in a towel, rather than his only other alternative, which would have been borrowing something from Derrick's closet; which under the circumstances it just didn't seem right. And besides, they'd vacationed together, been to the beach dozens of times, it wasn't strange for Jen or Sean to see Pete shirtless with a towel around his waist. It was however odd for a kid delivering a pizza to see Pete Wentz answer the door in such a state in suburban South Carolina.

"Dude! What...?" The guy had laughed out loud and looked him up and down, his identity dawning on him almost immediately. "You're that guy, the guy from that band."

"Hey, nice to meet you too," Pete had chuckled. He always found strange meetings with people who obviously knew who he was pretty funny, especially when they had that kind of reaction. 

"And sorry, just got out of the shower." he shrugged by way of an explanation, not thinking much of it at the time.

"Dude, you live here?"

"No, this is a friend's place." He casually corrected, signing the slip and collecting the pizza box the guy outside had pretty much forgotten about.

Before he could say anything else, send the guy on his way or whatever should have happened next, Jen appeared behind him and reached to take the pizza. They shared a brief smile of understanding, knowing that it was late and Sean needed to eat and get to bed soon. When Pete turned back the kid was curiously looking past him to where Jen had gone. 

"That's your friend?"

The way he'd said friend sounded as suggestive as it was probably meant to be, but Pete never felt the need to defend himself or his reputation. People who actually knew him and those he actually cared about knew that he wasn't the guy the gossip often made him out to be.  
His just shrugged again and thanked him for the pizza before closing the door to join the others.

After the police visited a few days later it seemed obvious that the pizza guy had told someone about his connection to Jen, who had by that point been seen on the local news along with the story of her husband's death, since the police were still looking for the shooter or any information about who could be involved. His questionable state of dress and his unwillingness defend it at the time had apparently made his presence something to think about.

"After we got back to the house with Sean and he'd asked me to stay the night we ordered a pizza. It had been a long day so while we waited on the food I took a quick shower to try and wake up a little. I was headed to the laundry room to check on my clothes that were washing when the bell rang, and without really thinking I answered the door. The kid bringing the pizza recognized me and was surprised to see me standing there in just a bath towel."

"Why were you in nothing but a bath towel?"

"I'd just gotten out of the shower."

"Was it common for you to be in such a state around Ms. Masterson? Her son?"

Pete struggled not to roll his eyes.

"I take Sean and my kids to the pool or the beach all the time. I wouldn't say it was common, but I've been around both of them without a shirt on before." 

"Continue, Mr. Wentz."

It was said in a way that Pete interpreted as, by all means Mr. Wentz continue digging your own grave, I'll be right here to keep things moving along until you have no hope of crawling back out of it.

"After the officer who'd come to see me left that day, we sat and talked about things for a while. I was already sure that whether the pizza guy was the one who spoke to the police or whether it was someone he'd spoken to about seeing me that night, it must have been where the idea of questioning me had started."

"What was Ms. Masterson's reaction to the officer questioning you?"

"She was confused and upset by what it suggested."

"Did it lead her to ask you if you indeed had any involvement in what had happened to her husband?"

"No."

"She never questioned why you were there, why you'd come so quickly to be with her and why you were so willing to stay and take care of her and her son?"

"No."

"Why do you believe that is, Mr. Wentz?"

He thought about the answer for a split second wondering if it was too cryptic or if it was just honest. In the end he went with his instinct and hoped for the best, annoyed by the fact that such a question was even necessary.

"She knows me."

"Obviously," the lawyer agreed with a smirk.

"Objection!"

"Sustained. And with that I believe it's time we take a break. We will reconvene and pick up where we've left off in one hour. Mr. Wentz, you may step down sir."

Although grateful for the break, it took a moment for Pete to move. He needed the moment to recover, but he was also scared to walk past the lawyer still standing there congratulating himself for that last dig he'd snuck in and not do something incredibly stupid. In any other setting he'd happily destroy the jackass, but he couldn't allow his anger control him right now. Not with so much at stake; and certainly not with the way things were going currently.  
The day wasn't over and despite his earlier claims it was obvious this guy had no intention of keeping things brief. He didn't want to clarify facts and allow Pete the chance to tell his story at all; he was out for blood. And as of right now, Pete felt as though the early stages of round two were not going his way at all.


End file.
